Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
I don’t know what embarrasses me more. That I offered myself to a Fellian so cheaply or that he refused.
Or that I’m disappointed.
I retreat to my quarters—now a familiar path in the oppressive darkness—and slam the door shut.
The next day, I kick a trunk set in front of my door. I grab my toe, wincing at the pain, and wondering what new humiliation is awaiting me today. Is Nemeth going to throw it in my face that I practically flung myself upon his beastly cock? He’s a hideous-looking creature, and not one that I would ever consider touching otherwise. He’s not attractive. He’s not even pleasant.
Is this an apology? If so, I’m not interested.
But I’m also curious to see what he’s offered. If it’s food, I’d be foolish to turn it away. I kneel down before the box, searching in the darkness for a latch of some kind. My fingers locate it and I flip the lid open, hesitantly feeling around inside.
It’s something rounded. And cool.
Holding my breath, I tap it twice, like Nemeth did last night. The box floods with light, nearly blinding me, and I lift the globe out of its case. He’s…giving one to me?
My heart squeezes and I smile, clutching the rounded, glowing stone to my chest. It’s the most generous thing anyone has ever done for me. He’s apologizing for last night. I know he is. And this is the best way to do it. Beaming, I pull the stand out of the box. It’s a lot like a candlestick, but with claws on the end that the orb can fit into and be carried around. I snap it into place on the end of the candlestick and smile at the light that pours through my doorway.
No more sitting in the darkness for me.
I should go down and talk to Nemeth. Thank him for his thoughtful gift and apologize for flinging myself at him last night. Clearly my advances weren’t welcome, but he wants us to remain friends anyhow. I’m fine with that.
I’m just about to close the box when I notice there’s a small, cloth-wrapped bundle at the bottom.
I pick it up, and the moment I do, my blood goes cold.
I don’t even have to unwrap it to know what it is. That comfortable heft has been my companion ever since I entered this tower. I know the shape of my knife without even looking at it. I pull it from the wrappings, scarcely daring to breathe, and stare down at the small blade, still in its sheath.
The bastard lied to me. He claimed he didn’t steal it, and yet he’s had it all this time.
All of my goodwill disappears in a flash. Eyes narrowing, I tuck the blade into the front of my gown in its old familiar spot. “Did he steal you away from me?” I ask the blade.
Yes.
That prick.
I’ve changed my mind. We can’t be friends. I’ll take his glowing orb, but he can go straight to the Gray God’s death pits and stay there. He’s made it clear that he’s got the upper hand, and that he’s not afraid to lie to me. Carefully, I carry my new globe inside my quarters, pleased at the light that shines over everything. I shut the door once more and crawl back into bed.
A short time later, there’s a low tap at the door. “Candra?”
I don’t answer.
Chapter
Nineteen
After that, Nemeth doesn’t pursue friendship with me. It suits me just fine. The days pass, and as they do, we avoid each other. If I hear him heading down the stairs, I make sure to keep my door closed. I spend as little time in the kitchens as possible, only going down when I have to cook something or to make my medicine. If I wash up, I make sure to never get undressed, lest he think it’s an invitation. I’m making it quite clear to him that I’m not interested, either.
For months, I don’t see those green eyes in the shadows.
I’ve learned a way to keep track of the passing days. Each time I rouse from sleep, I ask the knife if a new day has arrived. Through a process of yes and no questions, I’m able to determine the date, and I make counting stitches along the hem of my oldest chemise. Riza sent a sewing kit with me, and while it took me a long time to figure out how to get the thread to stop coming out, I’ve mastered a simple stitch enough that I can use it to keep track of time.
I count the days, because it’s something to do.
Balon doesn’t return for three weeks. Then four. After five weeks pass, I figure he’s grown bored of visiting me and stop checking for him.
The storms pound against the tower many times after that first night, and I put a pot on the floor to catch the drippings of water. I move my bed to the far side of the wall, and head up into the storage area above to move the wood away from the dripping spot. I don’t go to check on Nemeth as the storms crackle and thunder overhead. I don’t care if he’s frightened or unnerved by their ferocity. I hope he breaks and busts his way out of the tower, and then I can return home and say see? I wasn’t the problem.